


Out of Orbit

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e11 Orbit, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon justifies and reasons to himself after Orbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Orbit

He’s in the cockpit, hands tense on the controls, breath coming in gasps as he stares at the changing world and he knows they’ve _won_ , they’re _alive_ and he’s practically laughing because they’ve _won_ , another day, they’ve survived and they’re _alive!_

“Avon?! Vila?!”

Tarrant, sounding just a little panicked and that makes him smirk. Well, it’s nice to know Tarrant can be ruffled.

“We’re fine. We’re on the way up.”

“We’re in orbit, we can see you. Preparing for pick up.”

They’ve already come down into lower orbit then. A rather foolish move, it would just have left them closer to watch the shuttle burn but then, perhaps they believe in Avon’s abilities, know he can survive even this. He has got out of many tight spots before – and again, the glorious surge of adrenaline and glee; alive, they’re _alive_ and oh, it’s good to be alive, it’s _good_ and – 

\- and the door opens and without thinking, he turns to grin, to share that glee, the joy of not being dead and then he sees Vila’s grey, tear-streaked face and it’s like being thrown into a cold, gripping fog.

Oh. Yes. Well.

Well, he should have expected this. He forgot, that was all. And because he can’t bear it, can’t bear seeing that wet, hurt, terrified look, he lets his mouth quirk into a protective sneer, turns away to continue piloting the shuttle. Fine. Let Vila weep. He isn’t dead, what more does he want? Why does he have to stare pathetically like some wounded animal? It _had_ to be done, if only one of them could survive, one of them _should_ survive, why doesn’t Vila understand that?

(why does it hurt, now he’s thinking about it? It’s true, he knows that, why does he feel bad, he hates guilt, he _hates_ it, he _won’t_ feel that way, he has no reason to be ashamed, _none!_ )

He pretends he can’t feel the accusing gaze that’s being pressed into his spine. When the shuttle docks, he sweeps past Vila without a second glance. The others are full of excitement, glee, but it’s too late now. He feels nothing but the anger that they’ve failed again, that they’ve lost the tachyon funnel, that the dragging exhaustion that has been nagging at him again and again for the past year is back. He doesn’t care. He will not care because caring only brings pain. He’s tried to show them all, again and again, that he cares nothing for them, that he doesn’t need them except as a crew. And they won’t see it, they follow him, oh, they fight with him but they follow him. 

(and why, why do they do that when he isn’t Blake? Why do they sometimes behave as though they _like_ him, despite everything? Everything he does and they still care? Are they stupid?)

He wonders if Vila will tell but after a few oblique comments, Vila goes quiet, brooding. Avon tells himself he’s glad. He’s tried to show Vila for years what he is, of course he has, well, now Vila understands. It won’t be long before they all do. And then they’ll know and then – 

– and then what?

He doesn’t know. He tells himself he doesn’t care. They should understand what he is. It’s ridiculous that it’s taken so long. They should understand and then they can leave or they can stay and he will simply carry on because that’s what he always does, somehow.

(and if right now it’s hurting, if it’s been hurting more and more since Cally, since Blake, well, that’s the proof, isn’t it? That caring is foolish, only causes pain. If he had never allowed himself to care … but it’s too late to think that now, he can only change it and it’s good that he wants to, it’s good that he’s finally stopping this charade of friendship. Except it hurts. And he hates to hurt.)

He ignores the pain. He ignores the weariness. He’s good at that, he always has been. He has got even better. He just has to carry on, that’s all. He has to carry on because they have to win. After everything that’s happened, they have to win. It won’t make a difference, not really, not now after everything.

But it’ll be better than nothing.

It _has_ to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the livejournal b7friday prompt "Better Late Than Never"


End file.
